


Call Again

by meiqis



Category: NINE PERCENT (Band), 偶像练习生 | Idol Producer (TV)
Genre: M/M, a miserable attempt at angst, sappy happy end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-05-26 06:56:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14995289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meiqis/pseuds/meiqis
Summary: Zhengting and Yanjun are caught up in an affair until Zhengting's unrequited love hurts him too much to stick around





	Call Again

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [this prompt](https://curiouscat.me/dadting/post/521994855)
> 
> I apologize for any mistakes, I usually don't beta my work but while writing I realized I might've made the most mistakes in here

With Yanjun, Zhengting figured, as he mulled over another cup of ice cream, it was always the same, repetitive, never changing, it was never anything new, and at first he had thought it was good, that he could deal with it, bear with it, and now, with nights turning into habits and habits dragging on for weeks, with weeks turning into months and months into years, he wasn’t sure he was able to keep up anymore, burying his spoon deeper into the frozen treat while he recalled all of the morning.  
_“I’ll get going then,”_ he had said, moving out of the bed with his hips sore, they still were sore, even now that he was sitting on his own couch and wrapped up in a blanket despite the lasting summer heat he needed an additional pillow beneath his ass, supporting skin that was bruised and bones that were aching with every move and step, hell, even his shoulders hurt from when Yanjun had tied up his hands behind his back and then yanked at the fabric of his tie too harshly, up to the point he had been sure his joints would be dislocated and better not talk about the dozens of marks that were left on his neck, his shoulders, his chest, hips, thighs, and he wanted to throw something against the wall - it was a pillow - because he wasn’t even allowed to say whose they were.  
_“Sure, I’ll call you,”_ Yanjun had answered and that was it, that was always it, no further words as his boss had burrowed his face into his pillows again and fallen asleep, the silent order for the younger to go, no shower, no breakfast, not even coffee, he was only supposed to get dressed and get out, locking the door behind himself with the spare key he owned and act as if that night had never happened, and sometimes it seemed so easy, it wasn’t like anyone would see the marks, walking around in a diving suit nearly every day actually worked wonders in hiding bruises on his neck and everything else was hidden anyways, and it shouldn’t even bug him that his lover even knew, just where to place them each and every time, and whenever he slipped, when those bruises ended up elsewhere, the gazes of his co-workers varied, the whistle from Yanchen, patting his shoulder and praising him for having his game on so well, Wenjun just rolling his eyes at him or Zeren who told him to sleep around less before he’d be too sore to work when it were these two, Yanchen and Zeren, who always ended up falling into the pool together because they were busier jumping each other than training their dolphins.  
At least Yanjun usually stayed true to his words, he did call, around once or maybe even twice a week, often after tiring days, stressful, too many visitors and too much work, a few words spoken into his phone and then it was up to Zhengting to come to his apartment, strip, and a few blissful hours of agonizing pleasure and sweet pain, until his voice was gone and his body was numb and then the older would still get up to have a smoke while he himself could do nothing more than lay broken in bed because with a body painted in exhaustion he could hardly do anything, could merely turn his head, look at the older outside, the little glowing dot of red, lifted and lowered repeatedly, his exquisite facial features outlined by the dim light of street lamps below, and it hurt, it actually hurt, to see this beautiful man so close and yet so far, someone he could have in physical ways but who never cared about his heart, and he had tried, he really had tried.  
The thought alone was enough to make him stab his ice cream, over and over again, making the already softened mass a mess, because he had tried so hard, ever since he had first seen that man, love at first sight, it sounded so stupidly naive, a concept from a fairy tale, but he had experienced it in ways he had never thought, it came hard, crushing down over him, like a tsunami swallowing land, starstruck and frozen in place, because that man had been perfect and he had always managed to get every man, all of them he wanted, and with his heart beating hard, with his mind not focused at all, messing up at work, flushing when that stranger passed by, it had happened often back then, when he had still been an office worker, and he had tried so hard, he had swallowed down the frog in his throat, had straightened his back pushed back his shoulders, had talked to him, invited him for coffee, for dinner, had asked about a shared lunch break, and never once it had worked, turned down and turned down again, and he hadn’t given up, he had really tried.  
His head dropped back, over the edge of his couch and he wished that the ice cream in his hand was booze instead but that wasn’t something he’d be able to afford, having to work, having to be sober, it was more than horrible enough by now, having to work with his back so sore, his hips aching, he didn’t need to add in a headache and upset stomach, but he wished, he really wished.  
He just wanted to forget it all, drown in obliviousness for but a night, wanted to not have to think about it, about how he had felt satisfied, content for a moment when seeing red streaks down bronzen skin, until he remembered that these were his marks indeed but it wasn’t ownership that was valid, because these marks of a night meant nothing in the end, they’d fade away and disappear and he planned to do the same, he wanted to disappear, fade away from Yanjun’s love, or maybe he wanted it the other way around, maybe he wanted his love to disappear, fade away and out of his heart, because it hurt, it hurt every time it happened, again and again, and it really did, with every night spent like this, with all his desires let down, disappointed, and it hurt, it just hurt.  
It hurt to remember that night years ago, a few months into Yanjun working at the water zoo, an office boy, so unlike him, who always ran around wet, with his hair stuck to his skin and a mess, his clothes dripping, running around the park, dodging people and avoiding obstacles, watching other shows and cheering them on, they were family, supported each other, helped each other, and he didn’t want it any other way, and it had been a celebration, a party, Yanchen and Zeren merely searching for an excuse to invite them all to their home, new home, and Zeren, that stupidly rich kid, he had actually bought one too big, had begged his parents apparently, and they must have been fools to comply but their son was happy, he really was, so Zhengting had smiled, packed some drinks and shown up, and he had never regretted it.  
Back then he had been amongst the firsts, a given, he was so close to these two, had helped preparing, one of the pizzas gone before other people had arrived, a bottle of wine downed, and they had laughed whenever the bell rang and someone new came in, until one particular person arrived, whether it had been good or bad luck to give him their blessings, it had to be him, opening the door, seeing such beautiful face, starstruck, frozen, he had only been able to stare, at black jeans and a white tee and it was so simple and yet so good, blowing his mind and robbing his breath, and he had just stared, had felt so awful, actually having put a thought into his attire, looking overdressed and underdressed at once, in fine linen and beautiful silk, waistband emphasizing the slender of his figure, chest revealed by the wide collar, and it was supposed to be simple but it didn’t look simple next to this man at all.  
With Yanchen greeting guests, with Zeren promising he hadn’t known his boyfriend had invited this man, with wine endlessly flowing, with Yanjun just being so utterly attractive, beautiful, it had been an unbearable night, attraction, it had increased with every emptied glass, watching this beautiful man outside, watching him smoke, a glass with a golden drink in his hand, and it wasn’t long until he had staggered out, clingy, he had been really clingy, he always was when he had drunk, he was loud and he was clingy but with a man who was all his desire and all his need, he really hadn’t wanted to waste any more time, had just gone out, had hugged him tight, from behind, chuckled into his ear framed by black hair, and he had been tempted too much, for all but a moment, a moment of sweet bliss, a moment before he was jerked around and pressed against a wall, eyes equally as clouded as his and a cigarette stuck between his lips while hands roamed his sides, his hips, kept him close, hips flush against another, had inhaled smoke, not because he liked to smoke, he really didn’t, but because it brought him but one step closer to the object of his desire.  
_“Stop running after me,”_ Yanjun had said back then, low, sultry, tempting, it had sent shivers down his spine and he wanted to complain, whine, because how was he supposed to run after this man, who had stolen his heart and who was so cold but all this coldness was only calling him more, demanding, because he wanted to see what was behind these walls, he wanted to break them down, melt them entirely, he wanted to see what more there was to this man, and maybe he had expected too much or maybe he had expected too little, with hands roaming his body still and a cigarette dropped onto the ground, lips meeting in a hungry kiss, suddenly, surprisingly, he couldn’t even react before new words were said, _“From now on, just come when I call.”_  
And he really had, he had come over whenever there was a call, came rushing to his home, had stripped his clothes and spread his legs and hope, that hope to be able to claim his heart, to thaw that icy front, to make Yanjun fall too, it had swindled and decreased with every night spent in a bed that wasn’t his, the amount of ice cream he had bought had exponentially increased, eating when he couldn’t drink, but that hope was tugging at his heart, every night was like a new thorn growing on a rose’s stem, wrapping around his fragile organ, tearing at flesh and ripping apart, and it was too much, it slowly was too much, and maybe it was time to end it for real, really end it for real, with his eyes still staring at the ceiling and he could imagine it too well, that beautiful face illuminated by streetlamps down below, with a glowing dot of red that was lifted up and lowered again.

 _“I’ll get going then,”_ was what he had said as usual, had listened to the usual reply, the always same three words, had watched how a beautiful face disappeared in between pillows again, but this time it hadn’t been as usual, he had picked up his clothes, had gotten dressed, had left, without a shower, without breakfast, even without coffee, but this time he hadn’t been able to close the door because the key he had owned had been left behind, left on the kitchen counter, along with a piece of paper, just three words, three so simple words - _Don’t call again_ \- and it seemed all the funnier now, really funny, that he wasn’t able to leave, was still sitting in front of the apartment building, down on the front step, hugging his knees, hiding his face, because he couldn’t bear to part.  
He had spent years like this, walking into this building as if it was his, taking the elevator ride, walking into an apartment so neat, it fit him, it really fit him, and the memory nearly made him cry, all milky white and soft blue and silvery steel, simple and sturdy and it had looked so good, simple, just the basics, just what he needed, and it had smelled like him, like a faint note of cigarette smoke when he left the balcony door open for too long, of his cologne, spicy and intense and filling up his nose, had smelled of dinner and wine and he had always wondered what his tastes were, because he had never seen it, had never seen him eat dinner, had never been able to join, hadn’t been able to talk, hadn’t brought much more past his lips than moans and his name, because he was yearning for a man he hardly knew because his arms felt warm, felt like home, because falling asleep far apart and waking up curled to his frame was sweet, it was bittersweet, because this affection he received at night, when they were both out for good, it would never happen awake, there would only be his alarm startling them both awake, reminding him to go to work, and the memory of an embrace and a body against his.  
And he already missed it, really missed it, and he wanted to slap himself for missing it, wanted to slap himself for being a coward, to only leave behind a note, not even daring to say it to that beautiful face, because he knew he couldn’t, he wouldn’t be able to part from Yanjun, wouldn’t be able to give up when there were eyes locking on his and this teasing smirk as if he knew, as if he was aware of how much he wanted him, craved him, and then there were cold days, when he passed by the office and didn’t even receive a sound, when he was shaking his hair wet after one of his seals had pushed him into the water again, because they always did, they waited until he wasn’t paying attention, nudging him from behind, making him lose his balance and splashing into the water, and Yanjun would just pass by, give him a glance, but for a split second, and he felt so pathetic, because he had fallen, not only for that man but because of his animals, and all he received was a cold glare, making him pathetic, small, and he had whined to his seals about why’d they do that and he would swear, they had laughed at him, over and over again, as if they were possessed by his cousins and people would still not get why he had called them J and C.  
It would be hell, the worst, having to still come back, see him every day, and he knew himself, he would still stare, he would still be starstruck, passing by Yanjun, getting pushed by his seals, yearning for the attention he never received, craving the touch he never got, desiring words of praise never to come, but it didn’t mean he could stop, just because he stopped being a toy, a relief to sexual frustration, nothing but a vessel to vent desires, stopping all this, stopping to be easy, to come with a single call, it was pathetic, because he’d come even after just one ring, when he hadn’t had time to pick up, he’d be already in his car and ready to leave, taking off to a place that wasn’t his, it was pathetic, really was, and even worse was that he knew, that he wouldn’t be able to stop, he was still in love, his heart was still aching, and this night had been but another thorn grown on that rose’s stem curling around this bloody thing and tearing further and it hurt, it really hurt, hurt to the point he buried his face in his arms and cried, out on the front step of a house that wasn’t his, too close and not far enough, really not far enough, could never be far enough, because he could run after Yanjun but he could never run from his feelings.

Gone like this, there were a lot of things he missed, with too much time passing, he felt happy, really happy, not because he had broken up in such a cowardly way but because he had done so in summer, because if he had done so in winter, if he hadn’t paid attention right, he would’ve already been freezing and trembling and even more pathetic, he would have left, he wouldn’t have stayed, crouched down, with shoulders trembling and pitiful sobs, and he would have missed it, would have missed even more of what was yet to come.  
Because he had already missed too much, had missed the adorable sight of his lover waking up, clumsy, stumbling, always tripping over sheets, Zhengting had never seen it before, too lazy for a shower just yet, slipping into his underwear, it was dirty anyways, he needed to shower anyways, blindly making his way into the kitchen, pressing coffee machine buttons and rummaging for cups, pulling out leftovers from dinner and pushed into the microwave, all done blindly, tired, he wasn’t awake just yet, didn’t notice, couldn’t see, focused on coffee in a mug, on cold milk making it drinkable, poured it down, gulped down in one turn, waking him up, barely enough, turning around to set his table, and then he saw, saw the key, saw the note, and he didn’t need to read, didn’t need to look, he already knew what it meant.  
And fate sometimes was a funny thing, really was, because somewhere in his mind, in this naive construct of his thoughts, he had never deemed this possible, to get left behind, turned down, to see a piece of paper and his key, see them on the table, left behind, not forgotten, never forgotten, because he knew that man, because he knew Zhengting, he wasn’t someone to forget, he knew his keyring, the plushie of a seal, the two charms from his cousins, knew to what car that key belonged, knew which one was for home, which was his, knew the ones for the zoo, the locker, the work rooms, it really was a huge keyring, and he knew, that with a keyring so big no one would be lost or forgotten because it was a matter of impossibility to part them all, to take one down, and yet there it was, the key to his home.  
He wanted to curse, he wanted to yell, he wanted to punch that guy for being so dumb, for always being so dumb, he really was, leaving him behind like this, so he ran, merely picked up some pants, not wondering why they were in the hallways, they always were anywhere, never lasted long, not when he had a specific visitor coming over, he didn’t bother with the elevator, rushed down flights of chair, down and down and nearly stumbling, with a key in his hand and his heart on his tongue, ran further and further, until he had reached grounds, rushing through the entrance hall, stumbling out the door, stumbling over someone - someone!  
His head darted around, seeing the frame of his lover curled up, tied into a tiny bundle, he wondered how it didn’t hurt, sitting on the hard ground after a night like this, but he couldn’t care, couldn’t ask, could only rush over the few steps, wrapping his arms around a body so small, ignored flailing limbs, ignored muffled curses, insults, wondered how he still possessed so much strength, felt tears against his shoulder, heard him snuffle, sob, break down in his arms and cry, out in the open, one guy hardly dressed, the other a mess, with gentle hands driving through brown curls, a gentle voice humming low, drowning out noises of grief until he was done, over, silent, pulling back.  
Yanjun didn’t hesitate, he just reached out, grabbed a beautiful face with his hands, cupping cheeks, pulling close, until his lips met their match, a kiss that was sad, desperate, tasted of snot and tears, tasted sweet, because it was still Zhengting and nothing about Zhengting could ever taste bad, a kiss that kept on, gentle, soothing, slow, a kiss that robbed the air from their lungs and left fire burning, aching, consuming, until they had to part and breathe again, silently, at first, before he reached for a beautiful set of hands, skin dry, didn’t use enough moisturizer, always dry, because he worked with water every day, wasn’t paying attention well, rough fingers wrapped around a key by force, silently, accepting, demanding, because there was despair, and there was hope, actually hope, because words were warm and soft, “From now on, I won’t call again… So you’ll show up whenever you want.”  
Eyes wide, innocent, he kissed him again, pressed his lips against the pair quivering in fright, anxiety, fearing to be left alone again, but Yanjun couldn’t care, didn’t care, only grabbed strong arms and pulled him up, pulled him in, as if he was leading a puppy on a leash, following after him, small steps, fast steps, head low, confused, shoulders sagging, the trainer didn’t understand, and he couldn’t even blame him, wanted to blame him, wanted to curse him and scold him, pulled him further inside, into the elevator, darned cage of metal, and as the numbers of floors passed, he remembered it all.  
He remembered his first days, merely had graduated college, it had seemed like an easy job, nothing he originally wanted to do, working in a zoo, but they paid well and accepted beginners, and then he had grown to like it, not because it was fun, but because there was a bright boy always showing up, asking about breakfast, asking about coffee, asking about lunch, and every morning he decided to say “Yes!”, to agree, and every day he shook his head and denied him silently, because he wasn’t ready, he couldn’t do it, spend his days with a man so bright, so hyped, so beautiful, so utterly and blindingly beautiful, couldn’t think straight, couldn’t think at all, because he could only watch and observe and he made mistakes at work and had to start all over again.  
He remembered this party, the invitation surprising, maybe a good start, to meet his co-workers, get to talk to them, but he hadn’t expected this, hadn’t expected a beautiful man to open the door, with laughter frozen on his lips, with a shirt cut too low and revealing too much skin, with pants sitting high and hugging his waist, emphasizing how slender he was, making him crave to just grab him right there, pull him close, and he felt bad, had chosen just jeans and a tee because he had been told it was casual but he got to learn that casual in the case of such fairy always meant styled, always perfectly fitted clothes and fabric hugging his skin, and he hadn’t been able to stand it, using smoking as excuse, over and over again, finishing a package, starting a second, his uncountable amount of drinks, until there were arms hugging him from behind and he had snapped, because he couldn’t bear it, couldn’t bear knowing there was bare skin so close, that he could have him, touch him, and so he did, and he kept doing it, and he looked so good, with his eyes dazed and his lips parted and that cigarette stuck in between, leaning against a wall and messing up his hair, but he looked so good, really good.  
He remembered waking up at night and finding Zhengting far away, too far away, and that boy was still asleep so he pulled him close, never waking up, never knowing it was selfish intent, wanting to keep close a person that wasn’t his to keep, wanting to feel his warmth, share body heat, not minding the traces of sex and desire because he didn’t care, because it were their fluids mixed up, traces of what they had done, their activities, shared desire, and he just wanted to stay like this for time to come, because there was a fairy in his arms and hours to come and he just wanted to indulge because there was no other time he would be allowed to do this.  
He remembered Zhengting waking up in the morning, startled by his alarm, getting up and moving away, and a sentence that had first been said drunk, it kept being repeated, like that shake of his head that took place for weeks, because he was afraid, afraid of what he’d do if he agreed, if he went to breakfast, went to lunch, went to fetch a coffee with his crush, because he wouldn’t be able to hold back, and he didn’t want to hold back, so he didn’t accept before he would lose himself.  
He remembered the sight so beautiful, with a back marked by him, glistening, pale, and he had to look away, because he didn’t dare to look, would get tempted again, would go for him again, and Zhengting wouldn’t be able to bear with it, because he was exhausted, because he was sore, and so the older just buried his face in the pillows and didn’t look again, he waited, passed time, listened to the sound of feet shuffling on the ground and fabrics moving and a door falling close and he always wondered because there never was breakfast, there never was a shower, there wasn’t even coffee, and just how he had kept shaking head every day, he never raised his head or opened his mouth because he didn’t know what to say or how to ask him to stay.  
Even now, he didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to explain, dragging another man into his apartment, peeling him out of his clothes because clothes never stayed on for long when it was the two of them in his home, stripped down and discarded without a glimpse, leading him further, pulling on his arms, into the bathroom, beneath the shower, until steam filled the small space and hugged them tight, with lips meeting again, desperate, desiring, slow and gentle, desiring and pleading, because neither wanted to let go and neither was able to leave, none speaking up, caring to explain, because both didn’t dare, one had tried too hard, really had tried, and the other had never tried, really never did…

 _“I’ll get going then,”_ wasn’t said again, it was replaced by kisses and mumbles and getting up, dressed in shirts that weren’t Zhengting’s, walking into a kitchen that wasn’t his, preparing a breakfast to be his and while he still stirred in the pan, scrambling up eggs and frying rice, there were arms hugging him from behind, and kisses against his neck, there was the sound of a coffee machine running and the smell of a cigarette lit, and there always were smiles and kisses and words unsaid.

**Author's Note:**

> The drill we all know - catch me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/zhengjunist) and bother me on [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/dadting)


End file.
